Sound of Magic
by Duconte
Summary: Based on Sound of Music.AU-Hermione was hired to tutor the infamous Malfoy children. Now she was at the mercy of six little monsters with the appearance of innocent angels. It's definitely not helping that their father was the embodiment of evil himself.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to JK Rowling. Sound of Music tunes, lyrics, and main plot belong to Richard Rodgers, Oscar Hammerstein II, and other parties responsible for its creation.**

**Author Notes: **This will be an AU. And there will be some parts of the lyrics to the songs that I will edit or shortened to fit the story better. Some parts of the story will also be different from the original Sound of Music plot.

"blabla"-Talking

'_blabla'_-Thinking

"**blabla**"-Singing

**Sound of Magic**

**Chapter 1: Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start  
**

"_Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here!" – Albus Dumbledore _

_

* * *

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Draco Malfoy's grey eyes glared at each and every child of his. Sensing the trouble they were in, the kids looked terrified. They kept wringing their hands and shuffling their feet on the rich green Persian carpet on Draco's study. No one spoke for a moment. The only sound could be heard was the crackling noise from the fireplace not far behind the guilty-looking children, warming their back despite the chilly atmosphere.

"So children," Draco began with his usual drawling voice. His eyes were still carefully inspecting the six children. All of them wore similar uniforms that consisted of plain slate grey buttoned shirt, white light cotton v-neck vest, and black trousers for boys or skirt for girls. They were lining up in front of him vertically like a set of stairs due to their height differences.

"Are you going to offer me any reasons as to why you always terrorize the tutor I hire? The reasons better be intelligent and reasonable, mind you." He continued.

First, Draco stared at his oldest child. The recently turned seventeen-year old Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy put on a stony façade as if he was distant to anything that was happening at the moment. The only indication that he was scared of his father's wrath was his lips. They were dry and currently forming a tight thin line. Draco allowed himself to wonder, half amused, if he looked exactly like his son now whenever he got into trouble with his own father, Lucius Malfoy. Scorpius resembled him too much that Draco himself started to entertain the idea that the boy might be a result of a cloning spell. Scorpius possessed Draco's built (tall and lean, yet with muscles in the appropriate places thanks to their shared passion for Quidditch), Draco's straight silky white blond hair, his pale complexion that under certain lighting could give the illusion of transparency, his pointy features especially on the chin and nose, and his beautiful steel grey eyes.

Feeling the intense gaze of his father, Scorpius squirmed a bit. His cold mask started to crumble bits by bits, but he stayed as silent as a statue.

Draco moved his gaze to the girl standing next to Scorpius, and the boy let out a small sigh of relief. Fourteen-year old Lyra Narcissa Malfoy stared back at Draco with a defiant glare. If Scorpius was an exact copy of Draco, then Lyra was a copy of his late wife, Astoria Malfoy—saved for hair and eye color. Lyra had high cheek bones, making her looking every bit as aristocratic as her mother had been. She also had Astoria's graceful tall figure, her small but plump lips, and smooth creamy skin with rosy cheeks that turned deep red when she was embarrassed or angry like two ripe red apples. But like Draco, Lyra's straight hair that was currently tied into a ponytail with a black ribbon was white blond, and her eyes, that every so often had a mischievous twinkle on them, were grey.

Finally realizing that his daughter was not going to present anything verbal to him, Draco turned toward his third child. Rigel Eos Malfoy bit the inside of his cheek, his expression sour. His bright blue eyes (courtesy of Astoria's genes) kept glancing at his older brother and sister before finally looking at Draco. For a thirteen-year old, Rigel always had a rather serious expression on his face, and he was also known to favor rules and order. Thus, Draco knew if someone was going to give him a clue on this matter, Rigel would be the one.

"Well?" Draco asked, raising one perfect eyebrow into an elegant arch.

The slightly curly haired boy with the trademark Malfoy white blond color opened his mouth and was about to say something, when Lyra quickly nudged him on his side with a bit of force using her elbow, causing him to snap his mouth close.

"Well?" Draco repeated, looking from Lyra to Rigel. The boy just shook his head. His face that was already pale to begin with, turned even paler. Next to him, Lyra bowed her head slightly, avoiding her father's gaze.

Sighing, Draco moved to the younger ones. Perhaps he would have more luck with them.

The twins, Cassiopeia Rhea Malfoy and Castor Crius Malfoy looked at each other briefly before looking back at their father with identical frightened gaze. The two ten-year olds were almost mirror images of each other. They shared Scorpius' pale complexion, Lyra's high cheek bones, Rigel's blue eyes, and the white blond hair that all of their siblings possessed. The few differences between the two were their hair length and gender. Cassiopeia, the older one, had shoulder-length curly hair that would bob up and down with her every move. The fringe on her forehead was clipped to the side with a silver hairpin with three tiny pearls lining neatly on its end. Castor, on the other hand, had short curly hair that went slightly past his ears. Astoria always thought that Cassiopeia resembled a cherub, and Castor resembled the Roman winged god of love, Cupid. Draco was just glad that none of the rambunctious duo had any bows and arrows to shoot their unsuspecting victims with.

Standing beside the twins was seven-year old Altair Cronus Malfoy, Draco's youngest child. He looked like a miniature version of Scorpius, except for his creamy complexion and bright blue eyes. Currently, said eyes were staring at Draco through a glassy gaze. The little boy's lips were curled and trembled.

Draco's stare hardened as if warning the boy against crying. Altair bit his lips, trying his hardest to hold the tears that threatened to trickle down his cheeks.

Finally finding his courage, Altair sniffed and looked back at his father after he wiped fresh tears from his eyes. Then, the little boy offered him a small timid smile.

Draco's gaze softened, but other than that his expression was still the same: cold, with a hint of anger.

"No one is willing to speak up?" The older man finally said, eyeing his offspring one by one for the second time starting from Scorpius and all the way to Altair. The six children remained unspoken. Once again, the only sound that could be heard in the room was fire burning on logs.

Draco moved away from his position to sit behind a beautiful mahogany desk carved with intricate design; something that he inherited from his father. He took a fresh piece of parchment and an eagle quill from his stationery. Then He looked down and started writing. Each of his children watched their father nervously, although there was a tad of curiosity mixed in their expression.

"I will hire another tutor," Draco spoke while tucking the finished letter inside a beige envelope, completely missing the disgusted look that the children displayed. "And I trust that all of you will treat the new tutor with proper etiquette fit for well-brought up children from a respected pureblood family." He sealed the envelope with the Malfoy wax seal: A capital M with a male peacock in front of it, brandishing its beautiful tail proudly.

"Do I make my expectation clear, children?" He raised his head, waiting for their response.

Murmurs of 'Crystal, Sir' and 'Yes, Sir' were heard.

Draco nodded before beckoning to a majestic-looking eagle owl that silently had been watching the whole ordeal from an antique wooden perch stand in one corner of the room to come to him.

"You may leave now." He told them off with a swift wave of his hand.

One by one the children left the room. Each of them was wearing a dark look on the face.

Once he was alone, Draco sighed and leaned back on his chair. Long elegant fingers were messaging his temple, trying to remove a throbbing headache that the children had caused with their antics. To make things worse, the news regarding his children's mischievous behaviors had spread like wild fire among the available tutors out there. He would be extremely lucky if there was someone brave (or _foolish_)enough to step forward and teach the little monsters after what had happened to their last tutor. That was the Malfoy's twelfth tutor he had lost. Just this very afternoon Draco had found the poor woman dangling from a high tree branch, wand less and petrified. When he rescued her, the woman was reduced to a teary mess. Draco tried asking what had happened, but the woman became hysterical and ran out of the manor ground. She didn't even bother to collect her things.

At this rate, Draco would be willing to except any tutor the agency sent him. After Hogwarts was closed due to the looming war with You-know-who, he did not have any other choices but to rely on outsider to educate his children.

'_I don't bloody care if they send me a sodding Gryffindor. Hell, I'd even hire a Hufflepuff if I have to!'_ He thought bitterly.

'_Only as a last resort though.'_ He added as an afterthought.

* * *

A pair of honey-colored eyes almost popped out of their socket when the owner of said eyes finished reading a piece of parchment containing her newest employment information that her supervisor had left with the receptionist. Hermione Jean Weasley immediately recited a collection of obscene words in her head. She should have been suspicious when her supervisor from the agency floo-ed and told her to prepare herself for her next post without actually saying whom she would be working for (Hermione was painfully aware that the older woman knew of her relationship with her soon-to-be employer. Their constant fighting was, after all, quite infamous during her times in Hogwarts). And here she was today at the agency lobby, wearing her formal work robe, hair tied up in a neat bun to give a professional educator look with a little bit of make-up adorning her face, her bags on her feet—All ready to move in to the household that needed her knowledge and wisdom to pass on to their young.

But not in a million years would she think that her new home turned out to be the residence of the _Malfoys_. Hermione shuddered at the thought of having to live under the same roof with Draco Malfoy—let alone being his employee. This was the same Malfoy who had terrorized a big portion of her Hogwarts life they were talking about. The Malfoy who had always referred her as a 'filthy little mudblood'. The Malfoy that she had, in return, called 'foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach' and continued to sock him on the nose in their third year.

Oh, Merlin…she could not do this.

But she knew she needed the job. She needed the money to feed herself and her daughter. She couldn't rely on anyone else now that her husband, Ron Weasley had passed away, a victim of the war along with many other nameless people. The rest of the Weasleys and Harry did offered to take her and Rose in, but she did not want to be a burden. She wanted to stand on her own feet and faced the world with pride.

Maybe she could refuse to work for Malfoy and ask to be assigned to another family?

No, that was not possible. No other family wanted her after she angered a certain well-respected pureblood family by teaching their children to say Voldemort's name and told them not to be afraid of him, and also for teaching them too many things about the muggles.

Or perhaps was it because of that one time when she managed to spark an idea of revolution amongst their house elves? In any case, having a muggle-born witch or wizard as an employee was not quite popular these days, especially with Voldemort's threat and all. Thus, Hermione did not have a long list of potential employers she could choose from.

Perhaps, she could quit the agency and take on another profession?

No. She loved being a tutor and would not exchange the experience for anything else in the world. She always had a warm bubbly feeling in her heart whenever she saw the look of respect and admiration from the children she taught. She even felt more elated when she knew that one of her former pupils managed to get a job or passed a certain test using the knowledge she had shared with him or her. Teaching was her passion. She could not let it go, especially not just for Malfoy. She also did not want to be involved in the war any longer, not after what had happened to her dear Ron. And definitely not when her daughter still needed her protection.

Hermione sighed and sat herself down on one of the plush armchairs that were scattered around the agency lobby, scared that her legs might not support her if she stood any longer. The area was quite empty except for a single receptionist and a few witches and wizards passing by once in awhile.

'_Maybe it wouldn't be that bad,' _a tiny voice in her head said. _'Maybe there was some kind of a twisted miracle that had managed to change Malfoy for the better.'_ Then she snorted at her own ridiculous thought. _'Right, and Harry would've defeated Voldemort by the end of our seventh year.'_

Hermione took a deep calming breath while closing her eyes at the same time.

_Breathe in…_

_Breathe out…_

Her lips started to twitch, as if itching to let out a sound. Hermione opened her mouth and started to sing in a voice barely louder than a whisper:

"**What will this day be like? I wonder.**

**What will my future be? I wonder." **A long sighed.

"**It could be so exciting to be out in the world, to teach them**

**My heart should be wildly rejoicing**

**Oh, what's the matter with me?" **She sighed again, leaning deeper into her armchair. She ran a few fingers through her locks of brown hair in frustration.

"**A ministry official with six children**

**What's so fearsome about that?**"

'_If he was your sworn enemy during your school year, then there would be tons of reasons for it to be fearsome…'_ Her brain provided helpfully.

"**Oh, I must stop these doubts, all these worries**

**If I don't I just know I'll turn back**

**I must dream of the things I am seeking**

**I am seeking the courage I lack**

**The courage to serve them with reliance**

**Face my mistakes without defiance**

**Show them I'm worthy**

**And while I show them**

**I'll show me,**" Hermione's emotion changed from apprehension to determination as her voice grew louder, causing the receptionist and several bystanders to look at her curiously.

Hermione rose from the seat, her light brown eyes blazing with her passion to overcome challenges. She clenched her knuckles tightly and continued,

"**So, let them bring on all their problems**

**I'll do better than my best**

**I have confidence they'll put me to the test**

**But I'll make them see I have confidence in me!"**

"Mum?"

Hermione almost jumped at the soft voice of her daughter. She closed her mouth and turned to her side to see Rose Isolde Weasley watching her with amusement clear on her face. Apparently her daughter had return from the restroom soon enough to witness Hermione's little musical.

"Were you singing again?" The sixteen-year old girl asked with a laugh lacing her voice. "You always do that."

"It's better than being paranoid about a certain megalomaniac dark wizard all the times," Hermione sniffed defiantly, sticking her nose up in the air. "The world knows we need more cheeriness, especially in these dark times."

"I suppose, you're right, Mum," Rose giggled. "But it's still doesn't mean that I cannot be embarrassed when you just randomly break into songs, especially in public." She gave her mother an impish grin.

Hermione couldn't help but to smile. Rose's teasing grin always reminded her of Ron, especially in his younger days.

As a true Weasley, Rose was born with Ron's fiery red hair. She also had her father's ocean blue eyes and a bit of light freckles on her face, although they were already fading with age. However, Rose also inherited much of Hermione's traits such as her slim and long face structure, bushy hair that seemed to frizz and puff up like a lion's mane when she was angry, and more importantly, Hermione's well-known intelligence.

"So where are we going now?" Rose asked, sitting on the armchair that was previously occupied by Hermione. Ever since her mother took the job as a tutor, Rose had been following her moving from one household to next. She always thought that it was quite an adventure. She loved meeting all kinds of new people and befriending the children her mother taught.

The older woman didn't answer, instead she gave Rose the piece of parchment she had been holding.

"The Malfoys?" Rose sounded as surprised as Hermione did after reading the letter. Her blue eyes kept running over the name of the family, as if trying to convince herself that the name written on it was indeed the Malfoys. A familiar image of a thirteen year-old boy with white blond hair, mesmerizing grey eyes, and his infamous smirk came into her mind. It had been about three years since she last saw Scorpius Malfoy at Platform 9 ¾. It was the day that all students had to return home after their beloved Hogwarts was closed.

She was not in any means close to the boy. At first, Rose regarded him with caution, especially after her father's 'friendly' warning when she and her family saw the Malfoys at the station during Rose's first time abroad the Hogwarts Express. After a few years being schoolmates, she had only a few light conversations with the boy and traded a bit of mockeries in the name of good fun (especially regarding their constant battle to be the top of their class). But even with the little contact they had, Scorpius Malfoy always managed to leave quite an impression on her; if rapid heartbeats and butterflies on her stomach every time she saw him were any indications. One might called it a silly school girl crush, and Rose was convinced that she got over it. But now for some reasons, Rose found herself anxious at the notion of meeting the boy again.

"You okay, love?" Hermione asked, noticing that her daughter had gone quiet. She slightly bent down in front of her to check on the girl and saw that Rose's cheeks and ears had turned a bit pink.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," Rose stood up and handed the parchment back to her mother. "Shall we go then? They're expecting us around noon, aren't they?" She glanced at a beautiful grandfather clock standing at one corner of the area.

Hermione nodded as she put the letter into her robe pocket and lifted her bag off the floor. "We are going to apparate there instead of flooing. Is that alright with you?"

Rose nodded and took her own bag before standing next to her mother. She held onto one of Hermione's arms, readying herself for the unpleasant feeling of side-along apparition.

"Here we go," Hermione whispered before she and her daughter disappeared with a soft popping noise.

**To be continued**


End file.
